Falling Leaves
by Alashiya
Summary: Jack finds an unexpected ally for the Quest.
1. Default Chapter

FALLING LEAVES  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
  
The weather had been cloudy and damp for the past two days, but   
today it was unseasonably warm for the middle of October. Samurai Jack  
put on his hat against the heat and the glare of the brilliant sun in  
the cloudless sky. He glided through a field of waist-high grass, heading west. He was already further west than he'd ever been in this world, and he had been noticing how sparsely populated the area grew the farther west one went. Even Aku's minions didn't seem much interested in the area. Jack hadn't been attacked in nearly a month, which was a pleasant change but not why he was heading west. He was seeking a phenomenon described to him by an itinerant peddler that had sounded as if it might have been the gate of time.  
  
Directly ahead of him a gentle grassy hill rose. The high grass was thinning out, gradually being replaced by low, lush grass that looked like it would make excellent horse fodder, though the only animals he saw grazing were a herd of antelope well to the north. He wondered if he was the first human being to pass through this area--  
  
No, he wasn't. Ahead of him something long and thin, too regular to be natural, was sticking up out of the ground. It looked like a pole that had lost its pennant, or perhaps the shaft of a spear which the caster hadn't retrieved for some reason.  
  
Maybe he hadn't been able to retrieve it. Maybe he'd been killed. Jack dropped into a duck waddle and edged forward, slowly and cautiously. As he got closer, his approach became even more cautious. That shaft was indeed part of a spear, which had been driven through the upper part of the right shoulder of a man in a black gi, pinning him to the ground. That spear had been placed with great care. If the victim moved too much, struggling to free himself or to draw the sword he wore, he would rip out an artery and bleed to death. This man had not done that. He had chosen to wait in the hope someone would come along before he died of infection or dehydration. Here in this deserted region, that was a brave choice.  
  
The man lay absolutely still, his head turned away. Jack couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Maybe it was already too late. "Sir?" Jack said softly, glancing around meanwhile, for this victim might be bait being used to ensnare others. "Sir?"  
  
Nothing happened. Jack inched a little closer. They seemed to be alone at the base of this hill, sweetly scented with warm grass, dotted with autumn asters.  
  
Jack reached out to count the man's pulse. At the touch his head whipped around. Horrified, shocked, Jack leaped backward, staring into a demonic red pair of eyes shaped exactly like his own.  
  
"You!" they exclaimed together.  
  
Taking one last look around for other enemies, Jack stood up. The misbegotten duplicate of himself whom Aku had forged with some vile spell lay watching him quietly. It was entirely evil. Jack drew his sword. The double watched quietly and asked for no mercy.  
  
There were little threads of blood in the cracks of the creature's dry puffy lips. It was entirely evil..and entirely helpless. Jack hesitated. Killing it seemed strangely like murder...but what else was one to do with it?  
  
It watched him.  
  
"How came you here?" Jack asked at last. "I got rid of you!"  
  
"You're an idiot," the creature replied in a voice even raspier than he remembered.  
  
Helpless and wounded as it was, Jack could not bring himself to kill it; aiding it would be madness. He rammed his sword hard into the sheath. "I may be an idiot, but I'm the one who's walking away," he said, regretting the speaking of useless words as soon as he had let them out. He continued on up the hill, feeling the doppelganger's gaze on his back, firmly resisting first the powerful temptation to look over his shoulder, then the even more pressing urge to return and--  
  
(And do what?) Irritated with himself, he shook his head. The thing wasn't even human. (How do you know?) his mind whispered. (How can you be sure?)  
  
At the top of the hill he paused, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his forehead; it really was very warm today.  
  
(I wonder how long he's been lying in the sun with no water)  
  
It didn't matter. Unless he were going to go ahead and kill the creature as it lay helpless, something Jack knew in his heart he couldn't do, giving it water would only prolong its suffering.  
  
The air was still and dead, almost like high summer, though falling leaves were all around. By the time Jack got to the bottom of the hill he was thirsty. He got out his water bottle and felt absurdly guilty when he drank. He moved on, trying not to think about what lay behind him. At the bottom of the next hill there was a monastery; no signs, but the aura of peace was almost tangible. And while Jack's brain was debating with itself about whether Mad Jack was or was not a human being, his feet were carrying him steadily towards the monastery door.  
  
He knocked, curiously regarding the cross design on the door.  
  
Instead of a white or orange robe that bared one arm, the graying little man who answered the door wore a long black robe, and a cross-design pendant hung around his neck. The symbol must have something to do with whatever deity these monks worshipped; clearly, they weren't Buddhists.  
  
Jack bowed. "Forgive me for intruding--"  
  
"You're not intruding at all! Come in! I'm Brother Adrian. We get very few visitors around here." Brother Adrian ushered him into a small parlor. On the wall was a painting of a bearded man with brown hair and round blue eyes. "Sit down, please."  
  
Jack sat down on a stool. "Is it safe for you to admit visitors?"  
  
"It has been for the past few years," Brother Adrian said, seating himself on another stool. "Aku still won't tolerate churches or temples--" The monk looked unhappy. "--but he will allow the isolated religious community so long as we don't recruit openly and maintain a generally low profile. That's why we're out here on the frontier.  
"Would you like something to eat?"  
  
"No, thank you. I have come to ask for help," Jack said, wondering if he had finally cracked under the strain. "I need supplies to render first aid to an injured man."  
  
"I'll be right back." Brother Adrian hurried out, quickly returning with a large white box, four bottles each labeled PURIFIED WATER, and two folded blankets. "I'll come along and help."  
  
"Thank you, I don't think I will need help," Jack said, not wanting to expose the monk to a creature that might still be extremely dangerous. He looked in the box, saw that it held everything he would be likely to need, and latched it. "I will assist the gentleman and send him on his way."  
  
"If you need to, please bring him back here, we can take care of him."  
  
"Thank you." Jack snapped open one of the blankets for use as a furoshiki, bundling everything else up inside it. "I am indebted to you."  
  
"No," Brother Adrian said, watching him knot the bundle, "you aren't."  
  
Jack bowed and left, walking fast, wondering all the way back if the doppelganger was right, if he was an idiot. It was one thing to be unable to walk away and leave a human being to die in torment, but, despite appearances, he was nearly certain that Mad Jack was not really human. But Samurai Jack did not know all things, and because he did not know all things, because there might, indeed, be a human soul somewhere inside the wretch, he was going back.   
  
When he reached his destination he thought he might have wasted this trip. Beneath the blisters, Mad Jack's lips were as pale as the surrounding flesh; his face had a waxy cast. As a samurai, the man gazing down on him was all too familiar with the look of approaching death.  
  
Jack took out his sword and cut the spear shaft off close to the body. Catching the severed shaft, he tossed it aside. "Sit up and you'll come off it."  
  
Mad Jack tried but couldn't even raise his head. "You're too late. I'm dying."  
  
Probably he was right, and probably it was better so. As gently as possible, Jack lifted him off the spear shaft, supported him, gave him water.  
  
"Avenge me," Mad Jack said.  
  
"Why should I avenge you?"  
  
"Idiot! Because I was killed by our common enemy."  
  
"Our common enemy?" Jack repeated, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Aku!" the creature snapped, annoyed at his obtuseness, and then fainted in his arms. Jack eased him down, wondering. It must have cost Aku tremendous effort to create actual life, however warped; it was passing strange that he would then turn right round and want to destroy it. Normally he wasn't one to waste resources. Jack had encountered any number of killer robots that already bore dents and repair patches from where he'd chopped them apart once.  
  
Still moved somewhat by compassion, but even more by curiosity, Jack wetted a cloth and eased it under the exit wound in the back of Mad Jack's shoulder. He wetted another and began soaking the hard caked blood and pus that glued the gi to the entry wound in front, frequently dribbling more water between the doppelganger's lips as he worked. It wasn't long before Mad Jack began to respond with weak swallowing motions. Soon he swallowed more eagerly. The clot softened, and the smell of infection grew thick. Finally Jack was able to pull the torn gi away in front. He rinsed out his mouth with the bottle of alcohol the monk had sent. Then he leaned over to do what had to be done, sucking and spitting out as much poison as he could. At one point during the disgusting task he glanced over and saw that his patient was conscious and alert, and seemed to be making an   
effort to hold still. Evidently Mad Jack was capable of intelligent cooperation if such were in his own best interest. Of course all creatures had an instinctive bent towards self-preservation; even so, Jack was intrigued to find Mad Jack capable of any behavior besides wild, destructive anger.  
  
"You can reason," he mused aloud.  
  
"One cannot say the same of you," Mad Jack retorted weakly. "It seems fundamentally inappropriate that I, the world's greatest warrior, must die here while you continue your mindless existence."  
  
"Good seeing you again, too," Jack said, and resumed his work. When he could suck out no more pus, he rinsed his mouth again and began working the gi off the back wound. "Why am I seeing you again?" he continued, sponging and pulling. "I ended your existence."  
  
"Stupid! Life once created is not so easily destroyed. You could banish me, oh yes, and I'll not deny you weakened me, but you had not the strength to kill me, with either your weapon or your will."  
  
"So then what happened?" Jack asked, wringing pink water out of the cloth. He wetted it again.  
  
"You banished me to the outer edges of the Pit--and I owe you for that. It's not a pleasant place. First I had to escape it. Then I rested for a time. When I had regained my strength, I fought and killed when it amused me to do so." The fiend grinned malevolently.  
  
Jack worked at the gi. Another bit came loose. "And then?"  
  
"I heard from Aku. He was not pleased that you had defeated me." Mad Jack sounded as if he were tiring.  
  
Jack let him rest, then gave him more water. "Go on."  
  
"I told him that if you were so easy to kill, to go on and kill you himself. He was quite angry, but said nothing. He fears you. He fears us. Three nights ago, he came upon me as I slept. That is all, until you arrived."  
  
"And he left you to die like this." Jack shook his head.  
  
"That is why I ask that you avenge me."  
  
"You aren't dead yet," Jack pointed out as more of the soaked gi came loose.   
  
"I don't think it will be long. I feel very badly. Avenge me."  
  
"I am tempted to agree. In effect, Aku has tried to murder his own son." The last of the cloth came loose. Jack considered how he would feel if his father tried to kill him, and found he could say honestly, "I am sorry for you."  
  
The double's savage temper flared. "I don't need your sympathy! You may take your sympathy and shove it up your--" He broke off with a stifled gasp of pain as Jack poured alcohol liberally into and over the wound, and lay rigid while Jack cleaned, face immobile but for the occasional small twitch. Mad Jack's sole redeeming feature seemed to be that he suffered like a samurai.  
  
"Can you sit up?" Jack asked when he finished.  
  
Mad Jack tried. "No."  
  
"Lift your shoulder as much as you can, then."  
  
Mad Jack complied. Jack bandaged his wound, tied his arm up in a sling to keep the weight off the wound, shoved a folded blanket under his head, and evaluated him while giving him more water. One couldn't say he looked better, but he didn't look worse.  
  
Brother Adrian had sent along two squat, wide-mouthed bottles of chicken broth. Jack opened one. It was made of some smooth, slick material he didn't recognize, but whatever it was, it held the heat in well. A little at a time, so it would stay down, he gave the patient the broth. Mad Jack was too weak to sit up and hold the jar, but his good hand clutched at Jack's wrist. Jack found it extremely creepy to watch what appeared to be his own left hand covering his left wrist.  
  
"When I first met you...I wish I'd known what was coming," Mad Jack said suddenly. "We could have joined together and killed Aku. Together we could force the very gates of Hell, much less Aku's Pit."  
  
"I was taught never to tell people I-told-you-so," Jack replied, "but in this instance I do not know what else can be said. You are the son of his magic, the creation of his mind. Surely you, more than anyone else, should know he cannot be trusted."  
  
"When he created me," Mad Jack explained between sips, "he filled my mind with an overwhelming desire to kill you that excluded all else."  
  
"I noticed," Jack said. "And I noticed that desire is no more."  
  
"I'm dying myself, you fool; how then can I kill so much as a cockroach?"  
  
"I mean," Jack said patiently, "that you did not come back and try again."  
  
"Say what you mean, then. But you're right, for once. When I became a separate being, inevitably I also had the capacity for separate thoughts, feelings, desires... I don't believe Aku had anticipated that. Perhaps he had never before been a parent. Certainly I'd have done my best to kill you if I had happened to encounter you again, but chasing you down wasn't as important to me as it was to him. While I was recuperating I did consider chasing you, but the longer Aku and I were apart, the more I became my own person, and the more it seemed to me that he had an exaggerated sense of your importance. Why should I suffer privation chasing you, when there was good food to eat, sake to drink, men to kill who fought nearly as well as you, women to--"  
  
"I take your meaning." Jack eased the double's head down on the blanket and screwed the cap on the empty jar. "If that stays down, I will give you some more in a little while. You should sleep now."  
  
The red eyes closed. Jack settled himself to wait.  
  
"I could not have killed you," Mad Jack said suddenly, without opening his eyes.  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Nor could you have killed me. Each of us knows the other's fighting style as well as he knows his own. We would have been forever stalemated."   
  
Jack couldn't see how that mattered now, so he didn't bother to respond, and nothing else was said for the rest of the afternoon. Jack moved around with the sun, using his shadow to keep the patient shaded. Mad Jack was already showing signs of developing a nasty sunburn on the face, neck, and hands. In the evening he gave Mad Jack the other bottle of chicken broth, still gently warm, and went foraging for himself. He caught a nice fat fish that he ate with wild mushrooms and wild onions; the three rice balls he had left he was saving for the sick man. Gods willing, getting some solid food into Mad Jack, tonight or early tomorrow, would get him on his feet and back out of Samurai Jack's life.  
  
The divine kami were not willing. Jack could not coax Mad Jack to eat, and in the morning he was much worse; badly sunburned, blazing with fever, ominously still. At times he seemed to comprehend, distantly, what Jack said to him, but any replies he made were brief and disjointed.  
  
Jack sighed. Having been stupid enough to take on this responsibility, he couldn't walk away from it now. He bundled everything up in the furoshiki and set it aside. Then he shook the patient's good shoulder gently until the eyelids fluttered. "Sir--" He couldn't bring himself to address this misbegotten duplicate of himself by his own name. "Sir, your condition has deteriorated to the point that I can no longer care for you in the field. I am going to take you to a monastery. I shall remain in the area to keep an eye on you, and I promise you, if you harm any of those monks in any way, you will answer to me."  
  
Mad Jack must have understood; he smiled faintly, mockingly.  
  
Jack slipped one arm behind his shoulders and the other behind his knees. "Can you put your good arm around my neck?"  
  
Mad Jack tried but fell back weakly.  
  
"Hang on as best you can. On three. Ichi--ni--san!" Jack stood up, staggering slightly under the sudden duplication of his own weight. It was a long hot walk back to the monastery. Dripping sweat, his arms and lower back aching fiercely, he stood on the front step and kicked the door gently. The head of the unconscious demon in his arms lolled against his shoulder.  
  
Brother Adrian opened the door. "Oh, my. This is much worse than you made it sound. Bring him in." He hurried off, soon returning with two monks who carried Mad Jack away on a stretcher. Jack was glad to be rid of him.  
  
"You don't look so well yourself," Brother Adrian said. "Here, sit down and rest."  
  
"Thank you." Flexing and massaging his aching, trembling arms, Jack sat down on the stool. "He did get heavy towards the end of the walk. I shall rest a little and then go back and get your things."  
  
"How far did you carry him?"  
  
"Over your hill and then over that other hill back that way," Jack said, inclining his head to the east.  
  
"Good Lord, sir, that's six miles! You must be exhausted! You're not going back to get anything," Brother Adrian said firmly. "One of us will go. We know the area, we'll find it. You stay here and rest." Brother Adrian eyed Jack thoughtfully. "May I ask why you didn't mention that the injured man you were aiding was your brother?"  
  
"My--" Jack began, startled, and then he paused. Of course. With the red eyes closed, Mad Jack appeared to be his identical twin. "My brother is an embarrassment to the rest of the family," he said carefully.  
  
Brother Adrian smiled. "There's at least one in every family. Including my own."  
  
"Not like him."  
  
"Care to talk about it?"  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
Brother Adrian considered. Finally he said, "Well, whatever your brother has done, he is still a child of God."  
  
Jack thought the good monk would probably never know just how wrong he was.  
  
"And it's never too late for a person to turn himself around," Brother Adrian continued. "Your brother's misfortune may be a blessing in disguise. Sometimes facing death gives a person a whole new outlook on life."  
  
"That is so."  
  
"What happened to him?"  
  
"He was born that way," Jack said.  
  
"No, I mean the injury."  
  
"Oh." That question could not be answered truthfully without giving the monk the unsettling news that Aku had been very close by. Jack decided that a slight distortion of the truth would cause less alarm. "He was attacked by one of Aku's minions. I was not there at the time to help him defend himself."  
  
"They're everywhere."  
  
There was a pause, during which Jack struggled to hold back a yawn. Between the heat, the exertion, and the emotional strain, he was suddenly very sleepy...He awoke with a start as he began to fall off his stool, to find that they had been joined by a tall, thin monk of African blood.  
  
"How long did I sleep?" Jack asked.  
  
"About half an hour." Brother Adrian nodded towards the other monk. "This is Brother Genesius, our infirmarian."  
  
"We thought about waking you up to ask if you'd like to lie down, but you seemed comfortable. Until you started to topple." Brother Genesius grinned, and Jack grinned back at him. Brother Genesius continued, "You may come with me now, I know you want to sit with your brother."  
  
How wrong he was. Jack could hardly say so, though, without prompting a lot of questions that he did not want to answer, so he stood up and politely followed the monk through stone halls.  
  
"Your brother's the only patient I have right now. If you're tired, feel free to lie down on an empty bed. That way you can rest and still be with him."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Your brother's condition is very serious, and medical facilities out here on the frontier are primitive at best. The nearest hospital is four hundred miles away and we have no means of transporting him there except on foot. It's unlikely he'd survive the move. I don't want to alarm you unduly, but--well, if you have any other family in the area, we should probably send someone to fetch them."  
  
"There is no one else."  
  
"If he recovers, you might want to suggest that he see an eye doctor about that redness. Worst case I've ever seen." Brother Genesius stopped at a heavy oaken door, which he opened.  
  
When Jack entered the infirmary, the first thing to catch his eye wasn't the patient, but a five-foot, unpleasantly realistic wall sculpture of a man being crucified. He had never seen anything like it. Such graphic violence seemed terribly out of place among these gentle men. Jack thought the sculpture might commemmorate some important martyr of their religion; his guess was pretty well confirmed when Brother Genesius bowed slightly to it.  
  
Facing the sculpture, Mad Jack slept restlessly. If he had noticed it, no wonder he was restless. Jack thought that sculpture might well bring evil dreams even to a healthy person. Mad Jack's sunburnt face was covered with some white ointment, making him look a little like a kabuki actor.  
  
"I'll do everything I can," Brother Genesius said sympathetically, and left. Effectively alone, Jack stared out the window, trying to think of a tactful way out of this.  
  
Kindly assuming that he would want to stay by the side of his "brother," the monks brought Jack a tray at dinnertime. Brother Genesius half-roused Mad Jack and patiently coaxed broth and congee down his throat. Mad Jack was too sick to attack or even insult the monk, for which Jack was grateful. He was too tired tonight to want to have to discipline the creature. All he wanted to do was take a bath and go to bed. He would tell the monks--well, something--tomorrow.  
  
He turned in very early, even before the sun had gone down, and some time later he was awakened by a weak, rasping voice urgently calling his name.  
  
"Hai?" He sat up, reaching for his sword in the light of a full moon.  
  
"Where are we? What people have captured us?" The unnerved double was pointing at the sculpture, starkly horrible in the cold moonlight flooding the room. "Is that how they kill their prisoners?"  
  
"Oh. No." Jack sheathed the sword and put it back on the floor beside his bed. "This is a monastery. That's a martyr of their religion." He was grimly amused that a band of peaceful monks had, at least for the moment, put the fear of the gods into Mad Jack.  
  
"Are you sick too?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why are you here? Why have you not gone to avenge me?"  
  
"It is not my responsibility to avenge you." Jack lay back down, thumping his pillow, which was too soft, in an effort to pack it down and firm it a little. "And you are not yet dead."  
  
"It is your responsibility--unless another samurai steps out of the closet."  
  
"Do not presume to call yourself a samurai! I am not even sure you should call yourself a human being."  
  
"Whatever I am, I am a samurai. Aku fashioned me from the soul of one."  
  
"No," Jack said firmly.  
  
"I would avenge you in like case--because we are samurai."  
  
"No!" Jack said, even more firmly, and rolled over to signal an end to the ridiculous discussion. If Mad Jack, of all people, had the right to call himself a samurai, one might as well tell every bandit in the world to go ahead and cultivate a topknot. Heredity was not the only thing that made a samurai; there was also the small matter of conducting oneself honorably.  
  
"Avenge me..."  
  
"Shut up!" Jack snapped, thoroughly exasperated. "If you truly are a samurai, you ought to commit seppuku as soon as you can."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why?" Jack said rhetorically. "Isn't it obvious?"  
  
"Not to me. I have not betrayed my lord; I have none. Unless you are going to argue that Aku has the right to act as a samurai's lord."  
  
"No," Jack said coldly, "I am not."  
  
"Everyone whom I have killed died in open combat. I have taken no woman who came not to me willingly; I have no need to. I have stolen nothing. On what grounds, then, shall I open my belly? Because I have told you you're stupid? You are. Is speaking the truth now considered dishonorable?"  
  
Responding to him would only prolong this. Jack said nothing.  
  
"You are angry because you are me and I am you. Well, I'm not fond of you either, but we are still two samurai and as such you have a responsibility to avenge me against our common enemy."  
  
Jack said nothing.  
  
"Avenge me..."  
  
Some people didn't know when to let a matter drop. Jack pulled his pillow over his head, but as he went back to sleep he could still hear the feeble voice rasping insistently, "Avenge me..."  
  
The issue of Mad Jack's survival was in doubt all the following day, and the monks wouldn't hear of Jack's leaving. He couldn't get away without making them feel badly. He was trapped in the pretense of being the brother of the demon. He wished he'd kept on walking, but now there was nothing for it but to carry on. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one viewed the matter, Mad Jack seemed to have inherited his prototype's strong constitution, and that, combined with the care of a skilled doctor, began to turn things around on the third day. On Mad Jack's fifth day in the infirmary, when he could walk shakily by himself and had begun to develop a ravenous convalescent appetite, Samurai Jack hoped he could believably tell the monks that he was going to leave to pursue the party who had attacked his "brother" (which was, in a sense, quite true). This he did, and, to his great relief, they accepted the notion. He went back to the infirmary to have what he sincerely hoped would be his final conversation with Mad Jack, who was propped up in bed, regarding him with the usual hostility.  
  
"I am leaving," Jack announced. "Remember my warning, and cause the monks no trouble, or I will be back to hurt you."  
  
"I don't want you to go," Mad Jack replied. "I am regaining the ability to use my arm. I believe I will fight again. I want you to join me against Aku."  
  
"I am not interested in fighting at your side. Your speech is foul, your conduct unbecoming a samurai. Abeyo." Jack started out.  
  
Behind him Mad Jack said, "There is a secret back door to the Pit."  
  
Jack's steps slowed.  
  
"It's not like the others. It never moves around. It remains stationary."  
  
Jack stopped.  
  
"And I know where it is." 


	2. Chapter 2

TWO  
  
  
After a long, thoughtful pause, Jack turned around. He walked back, pulled up a stool, and sat down. "I'm listening. How did you find this thing?"  
  
"Four--no, now it's closer to five--months ago I was attacked by Kurando. You know Kurando?"  
  
"No."  
  
"He is--was--one of Aku's more highly placed minions. Had an idea he knew how to use a tachi sword." Mad Jack smiled. "Had a further idea he'd hunt you down and kill you with something akin to your own weapon. He mistook me for you." Mad Jack must have seen Samurai Jack's annoyance at that idea, for his wicked smile broadened. "It happens quite often. In a way, I owe you half my kills.  
"Kurando attacked me in the night, I wounded him. He fled. At daylight I followed the blood trail to what at first glance appeared to be the door of a natural cavern. Even your limited intelligence may perceive how surprised I was when the trail led back down into the Pit. After I killed Kurando and left, I stayed in the area for a few days, resting up from a wound." Mad Jack lowered his blanket long enough to display a recent scar across his middle, slightly above the waistline. "It was a shallow cut, but you know how it is when you're cut there. Nearly every time you move it'll come open."  
  
Jack did indeed know, and for a brief moment, warrior to warrior, their understanding met.  
  
"So I waited, and I noticed that that door was taking an unusually long time to vanish. Normally Aku moves them around very frequently."  
  
How well Jack knew.  
  
"So I did not move on. I stayed in the general area, and checked on the door every two, three days. In three months, it never moved. I am as certain as I can be, without watching it for years, that it never moves. I am certain enough that I want to go back there. I think it's the quickest way to catch Aku and settle accounts."  
  
"Can you describe the terrain?"  
  
"Get me something to draw with."  
  
Jack borrowed paper and ink, brush and bed tray, from the monks. Mad Jack eased his arm out of the sling. "Support my elbow." He dipped the brush in the ink with his left hand, transferred it to his right, and began to sketch. "I keep a bearing on this place wherever I go. It is one hundred ten miles southeast of here. The people in the area call those mountains the Blue Mountains. There is a village here... here... here..." The brush flew. "Overall, it's sparsely populated, but there's a fairly large town twenty-nine miles north-northwest of the mountains. Akuville. I've been there before. There are wanted posters of you all over town. When I'm in the mood to kill many warriors, I go there and wait to be mistaken for you. It rarely takes long. If we were on business, though, you and I would have to pass through discreetly, probably disguised.  
"Terrain is relatively easy and level until you are about sixteen miles from the door. From there, the elevation increases; you're climbing steadily. It's tricky in the autumn, which is when I was there, but not beyond a samurai." Mad Jack's red eyes gleamed. "Are you with me?"   
  
"Hardly. I do not trust you. If you have been in the Pit, why did you not kill Aku while you were there?"  
  
"I have tried. He resides deep within the Pit, surrounded by layers of guards. Even I could not fight my way through them; I was forced to retreat. Through one of the movable doors, that's how I came to this area. I saw no point in returning to the Pit alone, and there's a shortage of warriors willing to chase Aku into its depths. Or there was until now."  
  
Jack waited.  
  
"Don't you see? Even you must see! Alone, I almost did it. Together, we could do it." The red eyes held his. "I believe we could even get back out."  
  
"Guards at the stationary door?"  
  
"Plenty. I killed twenty-eight before I became too busy to continue to count."  
  
"How might we find Aku once we got in? How big is the Pit? The longer we must search the greater our chance of being stopped."  
  
"The Pit is a big place, but it's also quite busy. If you go in discreetly--"  
  
"Discreetly as in killing twenty-eight guards?"  
  
"I didn't say I killed them loudly!" Mad Jack said, annoyed. "I was very quiet. Now, as I was trying to say before you interrupted me, Aku resides somewhere near the center of the Pit. I don't know exactly where, I have never got that far in. But if we keep heading towards the center, we'll find him."  
  
"No, I don't think so. I believe I'll continue to search for the gate of time that has been seen in this area," Jack said, and waited to see what reaction he'd get.  
  
Mad Jack laughed. "Don't tell me that even you would fall for that story! Do you know how many places that thing has been 'spotted?' Most people wouldn't know the thing if they fell into it! Aerocars, weather satellites...even the full moon has been mistaken for that thing. You might as well let somebody tell you how to get to the end of a rainbow."  
  
"You have made your point. And I have in fact seen nothing that resembles it."  
  
"Nor are you likely to."  
  
Jack had an unpleasant feeling that the doppelganger was speaking the truth. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If the gate cannot be found around here, yours is the best lead I have...but it comes from you, and I do not trust you."  
  
"You've as much reason to trust me as I have to trust you. You wanted to kill me too, remember? And you thought you had succeeded.--Look," Mad Jack said impatiently. "I am not proposing that we start treating each other as long-lost brothers. The very idea disgusts me. I am proposing that we suspend hostilities long enough to destroy our common enemy. I still don't think either of us can defeat the other, but if you want to try I will be quite happy to fight you the moment Aku's head has fallen."  
  
Jack thought it over a long time. "If this door exists, I know I'll need someone to show me where it is. One could wander around those mountains for a lifetime... All right," he said after more thought. "I accept your proposal. With the proviso that still I do not trust you, and if I even suspect that you are trying to betray me or ambush me, I shall indeed kill you, and this time I won't make the mistake of trying to think you away. This time I will chop you into the smallest pieces possible."  
  
Mad Jack looked amused.  
  
"If you are still amenable to a temporary truce under those conditions, we may begin whenever you like."  
  
"Begin now."  
  
Jack went back out and told the monks that his "brother" did not want him to leave him.  
  
Four days later they departed the monastery. Although Mad Jack had seemed to be making some minimal effort to behave himself, perhaps to show his sincerity about the joint undertaking, his brush with death had not improved his overall disposition in the slightest, and the good monks had trouble concealing their delight that they were going to be rid of him. Jack didn't blame them. As he straightened up from his final farewell bow, Brother Adrian clapped him on the shoulder and murmured, "We'll pray for you."   
  
Still convalescing, Mad Jack was not yet up to a normal day's march, but that was all right. There was no hurry; they could not enter the Pit until he was able to fight. They went perhaps eight miles southeast, then made camp for the night, dining off the food the kind monks had sent along, and began planning their campaign. Their first step was to take inventory of their weapons. Between them, they had two swords, two fully automatic pistols each holding twenty-two .218 explosive rounds in double clips, two hundred fourteen rounds of ammunition, six throwing stars, one dagger, and one hunting knife.  
  
"Where did you get all this?" Jack asked.  
  
"The hunting knife I took from a dead minion," Mad Jack replied. "I won the rest."  
  
He must be exceedingly lucky in contests. "What about your sword? Has it any magic in it that can be used against Aku?"  
  
"I believe so. He would have no other reason to fear me."  
  
"But you aren't sure."  
  
"No."  
  
"Then we should assume it has no magic, unless, until, we see hard evidence otherwise." Jack smiled faintly. "That way any surprises we get will be pleasant ones. For now, I think we should plan that the best use for your sword will be to get my enchanted sword close enough to Aku that I can use it."  
  
"Agreed." Mad Jack regarded the weapons spread out on the grass before him. "What do you want?"  
  
He could have done nothing more likely to convince his suspicious partner of his sincerity... then again, he was bright enough to think of that... Jack shook his head faintly, frustrated; how hard it was to, in effect, second-guess yourself.  
  
Mad Jack caught the gesture. "You want none of them?"  
  
"Excuse me, please. I was thinking. You keep the guns. I have had little practice with guns." Jack hefted the dagger. It was a good weapon, well-balanced, comfortable in his hand. "I can use this." He sheathed it and tucked it into his belt.  
  
"You might as well take the hunting knife too. I won't be skinning anything for a while."   
  
Jack took the hunting knife. Mad Jack tucked one gun into his gi, then used the other to teach Jack how to load it, unload it, break it down, and clean it. When they finished, Jack put it back together, and Mad Jack put it in his left pocket. He stuffed the boxes of ammunition into his underwear; a sensible move, since the guns wouldn't be much use if the ammunition were lost, but likely to be most uncomfortable. No wonder he was so cranky. Jack put the stars into his right pocket for him. If he couldn't reach those in an emergency, it wouldn't matter much; throwing stars were little more than a backup weapon, not nearly as uncannily accurate as most people thought. Jack himself rarely bothered with them.  
  
Their discussion moved on to other types of gear. Both men had been in the higher elevations of the Blue Mountains in late autumn, both had come unpleasantly close to freezing to death there, so on one matter, if on no other, they were in hearty agreement: this time they wanted some cold-weather gear. Since they couldn't count upon happening on, killing, and plundering a bounty hunter or minion who would have either the gear or the money to buy it, they agreed to keep an eye out for other ways to earn money.   
  
The next morning, nineteen miles southeast of the monastery, they came upon an apple orchard at whose front gate there was a sign advertising that help was needed with the harvest. The pay was only two plix per barrel, but it was a start, and the fringe benefits were attractive to itinerant ronin: mat space indoors at night, breakfast in the morning, and all the apples you cared to eat throughout the day. They signed up.  
  
Mad Jack picked neatly and quickly for an hour and then fainted; he was not yet well enough for such work. Jack managed to bring him around sufficiently to get him behind some bushes, out of sight, before the overseer came through.  
  
Mad Jack sat up on his elbow, shaking his head. "We'll have to try something else during the day."  
  
"This area isn't exactly a hotbed of activity," Jack pointed out. "Look, you keep out of sight and I'll pick for both of us until you're able. That will allow you to sleep indoors so you'll mend faster. I want you ready for combat as soon as possible."  
  
"All right," Mad Jack said after a moment's thought. "And I'll see what I can do today."  
  
Jack didn't quite understand that last remark, but since he was now working for two, he didn't take time to ask for an explanation, but returned to his picking. Even though he had to go much faster than he had been, he still enjoyed the day; the weather was sunny, still, and cool, and apple-picking was the kind of mindless task in which one could become caught up, resting the mind from worries and frustrations. Jack fell into the Zenlike rhythm of it, and by the time the overseer called a halt for the day, he had filled nineteen baskets. He watched the overseer moving through the orchard, accompanied by a robot drone that collected baskets.  
  
"Nineteen!" the overseer said, impressed.  
  
"Nine. My brother picked the other ten. I don't pick quite as fast as he."  
  
The overseer looked around. "Where is he?"  
  
"He had to excuse himself suddenly."  
  
"People get carried away with those free apples. I guess I can trust you to pay him, you're his brother." The overseer handed over three decaplix notes and eight singles, and moved on. Jack went to clean up, and then to stake out a double spot in the long, barracks-like building where he was to spend the night, though there would probably be plenty of room. Half the pickers who had started that morning had not finished the day. Jack prowled the length of the room, looking for a spot where one could see all possible avenues of incoming attack.  
  
The door opened and six naked men walked in.  
  
"This is not the bath house," Jack advised. "So far as I know, there is none. I had to make do with a pump in the yard."  
  
The naked men all looked unhappy. Finally one of them said, "Sir? Can you please get your brother to let us have our clothes back?"  
  
"What?" Jack said.  
  
The man sighed. "We got tired of picking so we sneaked in here to rest for a while. Your brother was in here, toying with some dice, and... well..."  
  
Mad Jack walked in balancing two bento boxes in the crook of his left arm. He leaned close so Jack could take one, saying "Eat. You can't stay in fighting condition living on apples."  
  
"Do you have their clothes?" Jack asked.  
  
"No." Mad Jack sat down on the floor against the wall and opened his bento. Appetizing smells drifted out. "Eat."  
  
"You must be mistaken," Jack said to the men, although he didn't see how they could be; surely there couldn't be two red-eyed samurai around here.  
  
"He did win our clothes!" the man protested.  
  
Jack looked at Mad Jack.  
  
"I did," Mad Jack agreed, and continued to eat.  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"In the village half a mile southwest there's a second-hand store. I cashed in the clothes there."  
  
Looking even more unhappy, the men hurried out. That seemed to be that. Jack sat down and started to eat.  
  
"Did you make any money?" Mad Jack asked.  
  
"Thirty-eight plix."  
  
"So together, we made two hundred sixteen."  
  
Jack paused with a clump of rice halfway to his mouth. "You made one hundred and seventy-eight plix gambling?"  
  
"Do I look as if I'm in a condition to pick eighty-nine baskets of apples?" Mad Jack shook his head in annoyance at Jack's obtuseness. "Look here, most simple of samurai. In addition to the used-clothing store, that town also has a small licensed quarter: taverns, houses of ill repute, a geisha house, a gambling den. I think we should spend the night here. I can do little more here; those men will spread the word."  
  
There were one hundred seventy-eight very good reasons for Jack to accept the proposed change of plan. "Lead on. And you should teach me the game. Two can make more money than one."  
  
"Tomorrow," Mad Jack agreed. "I cannot teach and play for money at the same time; both require concentration. Tonight, sit quietly and observe."  
  
In the gambling den, Jack dutifully observed the dice game. Since time was money, especially to those losing, the game went very fast, too fast for a non-player to understand what was happening without some explanation, and after a while, becoming more and more confused, he gave up on understanding it, at least for tonight. He couldn't leave, in case his unwanted partner needed his help with something, so he alternately girl-watched and chatted with persons awaiting their turn at the table. As the night wore on, he grew more and more sleepy and paid less and less attention to the game; it was all he could do to keep alert for developing trouble. He was glad when Mad Jack finally stood up and they could return to their little rented room. He assembled Mad Jack's bed, then his own, brushed his teeth with his finger, and was asleep as soon as he lay down.  
  
When he woke, the sun was high in the sky. He had slept much later than he usually did. Mad Jack was still asleep. Jack wondered how much, if any, money they had made last night. At the time he had stopped paying attention, Mad Jack had been slightly behind.  
  
As usual, Jack checked all directions for possible attack. Then he went down the hall to the bathroom, returned to the room, got dressed, put his bed away, got dressed, and went out and bought some noodles for breakfast. It was now rising towards noon, but then again, Mad Jack had, so to speak, stood the night watch. Deciding it would be fair to give him another hour, Jack settled down to wait, leaving the other bowl of noodles on the table.   
  
Somebody scratched at the door. Jack got back up, drew his sword, and waited. Another scratch. A female voice called, "O-samurai? Are you in there?"  
  
Jack hadn't conversed with any Japanese-speaking women last night. Keeping his eyes on the door, he backed up and lightly kicked Mad Jack's hip. "Wake up!"  
  
The red eyes opened. "Hai?"  
  
"There's a woman asking for you."  
  
"That's nothing unusual." Yawning, Mad Jack sat up.  
  
"At the door!"  
  
"Oh. It's probably the maiko I won last night." Mad Jack raised his voice. "Come on in!"  
  
The door opened and a tiny apprentice geisha in a pink kimono decorated with white cranes walked in. She also wore the full, white-faced makeup and a towering wig. Closing the door, she set down the furoshiki bundle she carried and bowed to the floor. "Ohayo gozaimashita, o-samurai!"  
  
"Ohayo gozaimasu," Mad Jack said with a perfunctory bow.  
  
"Ohayo gozaimasu." Jack bowed. "Who are you?"  
  
"I am Kiku. Please, o-samurai, what are your names?"  
  
"Jack," they said together, and then glared at each other.  
  
The maiko sat back on her heels, puzzled, glancing from one to the other. "You are both called 'Jack?' Two brothers with the same name? How can that be?"  
  
"Our mother was drunk at the time," Mad Jack said irritably.  
  
Kiku hastily lowered her forehead to the floor. Cautiously looking up, she said, "I mean no offense--but how are you to tell to whom I am speaking if I call your mutual name? May I call you Jack," she said to Samurai Jack, "and you Kuro-Jack?" she said to Mad Jack.  
  
"That's fine," he said impatiently. "Look here, woman, I didn't acquire you with the idea that you'd do nothing but talk all day." Once again, she bowed to the floor. "I acquired you with the idea that you'd be of some use. To start with, when I get back from the toilet, I need my bandage changed." He got up and walked out.  
  
Thoroughly embarrassed that people thought this rude, uncouth man was his brother, Jack pointed silently to the roll of bandaging on the table. Kiku smiled at him. He busied himself putting away the remaining bedding.  
  
When Mad Jack returned, he sat down on the floor and Kiku immediately set to work. "That looks serious, sir."  
  
"It was. It almost killed me."  
  
"Almost," Jack said regretfully. "Look, about winning people in games--"  
  
"My ancestors were with me last night!" Kiku interrupted happily. "I had become desperate enough to try to fight my way out of the geisha house; most likely I'd have been killed, but that would have been better than one more day as a maiko. It's terrible. They hit you all the time and never give you enough to eat. But then my ancestors sent Kuro-Jack-san and his dice. How can I ever thank you, sir?"  
  
"We'll find a way," Mad Jack said.  
  
She glanced at Jack. "I am sorry, Jack-san. I did not mean to interrupt you. I am so filled with happiness at escaping that place alive that my joy bursts forth at inopportune times. What had you started to say?"  
  
"Never mind," he said. If Kiku thought being won as a prize left her better off, it was hardly his place to object. "Kuro-Jack-san, how much money did you win?"  
  
"Five hundred sixty-two plix. And change."  
  
Jack was definitely going to have to learn that game.  
  
Kiku was gently wiggling Mad Jack's upper arm. "Sir, if I may suggest--you had better let me put that joint through its range of motion several times a day, if you want to regain the full use of your arm."  
  
"I've been doing that for him," Jack told her. "Please, take over."  
  
Kiku immediately seized Mad Jack's right elbow and forced his arm straight out to the side. Caught by surprise, he let out a startled yell of pain. She shoved the arm straight up. He blanched and sweat popped out on his forehead. "Hmmm, yes, very stiff," she said. "I will get you some hot towels." She bowed and left, closing the door quietly behind her.  
  
"She's almost as strong as a man!" Mad Jack said, surprised. He stood up, looking towards his clothes. Jack repressed a sigh. The worst time of the day was here; knowing that Mad Jack also probably wasn't looking forward to what was coming was small consolation.  
  
Mad Jack fended for himself as best he could, but there were some things that a person who had virtually no mobility in one arm simply could not do without help. One of those things was getting dressed. Normally Jack had no objection whatever to aiding an injured person in any way necessary, but Mad Jack was a little different. His mere existence made Jack uncomfortable. Touching him gave Jack the crawls, so having to help him dress would have been bad enough if he'd been of an agreeable nature. He was not, so Jack had to put up with being snarled at all through the distasteful task. Mad Jack was particularly testy about his underwear. If Jack wasn't wrapping it too tight, he was wrapping it too loose; if he wasn't (supposedly) giving Mad Jack a wedgie, he was "letting it hang down to my knees, you fool!" Some days there would be three or four rewraps; one day there had been five, and might have been more if Jack hadn't put his foot down, and every single day he had to fight the urge to rip the fundoshi from between Mad Jack's legs and wrap it tightly around his fool neck. As far as Jack was concerned, if Kiku did nothing besides take over the fundoshi fittings, she would be a welcome addition to the expedition. Jack repressed another sigh. Mad Jack wasn't likely to be combat ready for weeks. The depressing prospect of a month, maybe even two, in the creature's company stretched before Jack like a desert he must cross.  
  
Mad Jack was making tiny sawing motions with his right arm. It was evident that it hurt. "When I catch Aku," he said, "I will tear out his liver and shove it down his throat."  
  
"Does he treat all his minions as badly as he treated you?" Jack wondered.  
  
Mad Jack's red eyes blazed. "If you ever call me a minion of his again I'll do my best to tear out your liver. If I would not even submit to you, who at least had the courage to face me in open battle, do you think I'd submit to a coward like Aku?"  
  
"That's a valid point." Jack bowed slightly. "One I had not considered. I meant no insult."  
  
"All right." Mad Jack resumed exercising his arm. He had let the matter drop. Jack was exceedingly surprised.  
  
Kiku returned with the towels, which she applied while Mad Jack continued his range-of-motion exercises. "Kuro-Jack-san," she said. "You are a very fortunate man. If the arrow--"  
  
"Spear."  
  
"--had gone a little one way or the other, it would have killed you."  
  
"Kiku-san," Jack asked, "were you once a doctor?"  
  
"No, sir. There was a samurai..." Her eyes filled with tears. She controlled herself with a visible effort. "He taught me many of the arts of war, including something of the knowledge of anatomy."  
  
"Why'd he sell you?" Mad Jack asked.  
  
"He didn't. Two years ago some of Aku's minions shot him in the back. It was they who sold me."  
  
Mad Jack spoke words that brightened Samurai Jack's day tremendously. "Kiku-san, help me get dressed."  
  
She got the fundoshi placed to Mad Jack's satisfaction on her second try. It was almost as if he were mellowing slightly; if he continued on like this, Samurai Jack thought, he would be marginally tolerable in...oh, no more than ten years.  
  
Kiku went to the window and looked out. "O-samurai," she said, and at the sudden change in her voice Mad Jack reached into his gi and Jack put his hand on his sword. "O-samurai, I would not presume to ask either of you for his sword, but could one of you loan me some sort of weapon? I will not go back there, and I want to die fighting them."  
  
"Welshers," Mad Jack said, annoyed.  
  
Jack angled over to the window and peeked out. An assortment of unsavory types were milling around on the wood sidewalk before the inn. "Fifteen."  
  
"Fifteen people to chop and I can't wield a sword!" Mad Jack said regretfully.  
  
"I thank you anyway, Kuro-Jack-san." Kiku bowed to him and then to Jack. "Jack-san, since you knew nothing about my joining you, I don't think it would be fair to ask you to intervene against such odds."  
  
"No, it probably wouldn't." He smiled. "So I will volunteer."  
  
Moved, Kiku bowed low. "Jack-senpai, truly you exemplify the spirit of bushido."  
  
He blushed. "It is a great privilege for a samurai to defend a fine person such as yourself."  
  
"Please forgive me for interrupting the meeting of the mutual admiration society," Mad Jack said, "so sorry, but might we plan our attack now?"  
  
"Seems obvious," Jack said. "The stairs. The stairs are the only way for them to come in, since they don't seem inclined to climb the wall. We hold the stairs and when they assemble on the stairs..."  
  
Mad Jack pulled his gi away from his chest. "Kiku-san, take my extra gun." She reached in and withdrew it. "Do you know how to operate it?"  
  
"No, sorry. Kozuke preferred his sword so I never got familiar with guns."  
  
"It's very simple. That little switch is the safety. Flip it up when you are ready to fire. You need not aim. Just hold the trigger down and, well, spray lead." Mad Jack pantomimed. "Understand?"  
  
"I understand," Kiku said.  
  
"You will stay to my right, that will put you between two guns. I want my property in the safest place possible."  
  
Jack checked on the enemy again. "They're starting to come in."  
  
With his left hand in his pocket, his right arm in a sling, and a savage grin on his face, Mad Jack stepped out onto the landing to meet the enemy. 


	3. Chapter 3

THREE  
  
  
The criminals and gamblers clustered on the stairs, looking at the crippled samurai who stood beside the frail maiko. The gang had quite an assortment of weapons.  
  
"May we help you?" said Samurai Jack, who stood behind his companions.  
  
"We want our property back!" said a particularly ugly, badly scarred specimen. "He cheated! His dice were loaded."  
  
Jack hadn't even considered that possibility, but now that it had been brought up, he couldn't honestly put it past Mad Jack. "Were they?" he asked.  
  
"No. At one time I did own a pair of loaded dice, but they were stolen several months ago. These people lost Kiku-san through their own stupidity," Mad Jack replied with his usual exquisite tact.  
  
"Who are you calling stupid?" the spokesman demanded.  
  
"I rest my case," Mad Jack said.  
  
The criminals looked at the samurai who wore a sword on his left side and had his right arm in a sling, and they laughed at him, and the spokesman said, "We were going to break your other arm and let it go at that, but now we're really going to hurt you! What do you say to that?"  
  
Mad Jack's grin widened. "I say, Fire!"  
  
There was a great deal of noise and blood as Mad Jack and Kiku drew out guns and opened fire together. Jack threw his dagger, more because he felt obliged to contribute something to the group effort than because his help was really needed. Mad Jack and Kiku were doing fine on their own.  
  
There was sudden silence. Smoke drifted. Kiku sneezed. A shell casing rolled off the step on which she stood and bounced down with a faint plink-plink-plink. Jack waited to see what she would do next. Now that she had a gun in her hand, she might decide to shoot her new owner and achieve total freedom. Although he was quite willing to let her walk away, Jack couldn't allow her to shoot Mad Jack, whom he needed, so he watched her closely.  
  
Kiku returned Mad Jack's pistol. "Kuro-Jack-san, you did not seem surprised that they came."  
  
"I wasn't. After you've been gambling for a while, you get to a point at which you can recognize who will lose gracefully and who won't."  
  
"So you expected to be attacked," she went on.  
  
"Yes." He cocked his head, as if wondering when she were going to get to whatever point she intended to make.  
  
Gently, carefully, she touched his arm through the sling. "Even though you were injured, still you were willing to fight. You could have just let me go back to them. Kuro-Jack-san, you are very brave."  
  
He bowed slightly, started to reply to her, and reconsidered, instead casting a triumphant glance at Samurai Jack. "I am a samurai!"  
  
"We should probably leave now," Jack said.  
  
"Yes, we should." Kiku pattered down the stairs and began rifling pockets. "Even though there is no law in these parts, so we are unlikely to be arrested, the other criminals in town may unite against us." She pulled Jack's dagger out of a dead fish-faced creature, wiped it on the creature's tunic, and handed it to Mad Jack, who passed it on to Jack. Jack sheathed it and hurried back into the room to leave a tip for the poor soul who would have to clean up.  
  
When he came out, Kiku was triumphantly holding up a small piece of plastic. "Keystrip!"   
  
They went to the front desk. The clerk had evidently already got the details of what happened. His voice shook as he asked, "Was everything all right?"  
  
"Yes," Jack said. "We apologize for the disturbance."  
  
The clerk looked nervously at Mad Jack's burning red eyes. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Jack followed Mad Jack out, Kiku trotting along in the middle with her furoshiki. They covered her while she tried her keystrip on parked aerocars. The third one opened.  
  
"I should drive; you two cover our retreat with the guns," Jack said, and they got into the back, and he got behind the driver's panel. He could see them in the rearview mirror. Kiku was smiling at Mad Jack, and he was preening. Jack hoped that at least one of them was also paying attention out the rear and side windows.  
  
As it happened, the carload of criminals who pursued them were not interested in stealth. They opened fire even before they had passed the village limits. Kiku retracted the rear window. Mad Jack aimed carefully and killed the driver with one shot. The pursuing aerocar spiraled down and hit the ground in a crumple of metal.  
  
"That wasn't so bad," Kiku said.  
  
"No," Jack said, glancing in his rearview mirror again. "But those two carloads of bounty hunters coming up on us may present a problem."  
  
"How can you tell they're bounty hunters?"  
  
"I see enough of them; they all have that look about them."  
  
"Why," she exclaimed, "you are not just a samurai called Jack--you are Samurai Jack! I had never heard it said you had a brother."  
  
Jack wouldn't have tried to explain all that to her even if he hadn't been having to concentrate on his evasive maneuvers.  
  
"Slow down a little," Mad Jack said. "We're a little out of pistol range."  
  
"It is such an honor to meet you both," Kiku said with a shy giggle. Mad Jack let go with a barrage from his pistol. Jack could see holes in one of the cars, but there had been no kills. Kiku went on, "Why, Samurai Jack-san, I used to wish I could even catch a glimpse of you, much less meet you! Kozuke always said you were the greatest bugeisha he'd ever heard of." She fired and killed a bounty hunter in one of the passenger seats. "And Kozuke was right, as usual. I wish he could have met you, Jack-san, and you too, Kuro-Jack-san." More gunfire. One of the pursuing cars spiraled down in flames. "Kuro-Jack-san, what a great bugeisha you must be, to remain modestly in the background." Mad Jack somehow managed to preen and fire at the same time. "It is the greatest warrior who is the most humble." More preening. More shooting. "But there, I go on like a schoolgirl."  
  
"Quite all right," Mad Jack said as they headed into a forested area. "Kiku-san, just in case we don't survive--"  
  
"Of course we will survive. With two great warriors such as yourselves here, how could we not?"  
  
Jack barely avoided hitting a tree.  
  
"Well, just in case, I think I should tell you that you are a remarkably perceptive and observant woman."  
  
"Thank you, Kuro-Jack-san."  
  
"Jack!" Mad Jack said. "Speed up while she reloads me."  
  
"If I speed up I'll probably hit a tree."  
  
"And if you don't our brains will be all over this car! Move!"  
  
The bounty hunters were indeed hot on their trail. Ahead of them was a huge pine tree. Jack opened the throttle and drove straight for it. At the last possible moment, he swerved straight up. The bounty hunters hit the tree head-on.  
  
"See, I told you we'd survive," Kiku said calmly.   
  
Jack circled back down and landed. The bounty hunters' car was a crumpled mess, not salvageable. Five bodies, thrown clear, lay sprawled among the trees--  
  
No, four bodies. One bounty hunter stirred, and sat up on his elbow as the samurai and the maiko got out of their own aerocar. Mad Jack walked over to the live bounty hunter, pistol ready.  
  
"I surrender!" the bounty hunter said.  
  
"We lack the manpower to take prisoners," Samurai Jack advised him. "Sorry."   
  
"Even if we did have the manpower, to whom would we turn in our prisoners?" Busy searching bodies, Kiku didn't even look up as she spoke. "We have nothing to do with Aku. Your predicament is your own fault. If you hadn't been trying to capture us and turn us over to Aku, you would not be here now."  
  
Jack turned to prying open the bounty hunters' trunk, not wanting to converse with the man any more. It was bad enough to make money by selling people to Aku, but then to beg mercy from one's prospective victims...Disgusting.   
  
After their close call, he was still a little jumpy, and his head whipped around at a sudden noise, but it was only Mad Jack cocking the pistol.  
  
"My leg's broken!" the bounty hunter said, as if that would have made some difference to him had positions been reversed.  
  
"It does look that way," Mad Jack agreed, and killed him.  
  
Birds chirped. Pine needles rustled in a gentle breeze. Jack went through the bounty hunters' trunk. No cold-weather gear, but... "Gunners! This is your lucky day! Look at all this two-eighteen ammunition. Boxes and boxes of it."   
  
"Good," Mad Jack said. "While I regain the use of my arm, we can go deep, deep into the forest, where no one will hear us, and I can start you two on shooting practice.--Anything else?"  
  
"Not really," Jack said. "Clothes...a couple of extra pairs of shoes, that don't look as if they'd fit any of us...their lunch..."  
  
"We might eat that," Kiku said. "What were they having?"  
  
Jack opened the bag and sniffed. His stomach turned. "Haggis."  
  
"What?" Kiku said.  
  
"What?" Mad Jack said.  
  
"What is haggis?" Kiku asked.  
  
"You don't want to know," Samurai Jack said.   
  
**********************************************************************  
  
During the five weeks it took for Mad Jack to regain mobility in his arm, Samurai Jack became an excellent pistol shot. He also became very friendly with Kiku. He grew to like and respect her tremendously, and wished there were some way he could warn her away from Mad Jack. She was far too fond of the double, who was not fit to fold her obi (not that she ever let either of them touch it, whether to fold it, or unfold it, or help tie it; she was even more fussy about it than Mad Jack was about his underwear).  
  
Very early on the morning of November 22, Kiku took the car and went into Akuville with a shopping list, so that the wanted samurai and his twin could stay hidden in the forest. She had a car, a gun, and plenty of money, but by now neither of them had the slightest doubt that she would return. As the sky brightened, Jack watched Mad Jack run through practice kata exercises with his sword, looking carefully for signs of lingering stiffness that might be fatal in combat.  
  
"You are ready," he said when Mad Jack finished, and then he added regretfully, "I shall miss Kiku."  
  
Mad Jack sheathed his sword and said nothing.  
  
"You must send her away," Jack said firmly. "It would be unfair to her to take her along."  
  
"I said I would, and I will!" Mad Jack snapped, and Jack left it at that.   
  
By lunchtime Kiku was back with all the cold-weather gear they had requested. Jack noticed she had also bought some for herself, and he felt even worse. At dusk the car landed in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, and the three of them had dinner over a campfire. Jack found the meal reminiscent of what the monks had called "the Last Supper."  
  
Kiku looked up at a towering peak that pierced the round ball of the moon. "Why have you come to these mountains so late in the year, o-samurai? What will we do here?"  
  
They glanced at each other. Then Mad Jack said, "We must go up, where the air is too thin and the peaks too high and the trails too narrow to fly the car. We have no further need of it. You take it, Kiku-san. And keep the remaining money as well. I give you your freedom. You may go wherever you like."  
  
She thanked him effusively, bowing many times, but she showed no signs of leaving.   
  
"No point in your sleeping out here in the cold," Mad Jack said. "Feel free to leave now."  
  
"I'm not leaving," Kiku said. "You said I could go wherever I liked. I would like to go where you go."  
  
"That is the one place you cannot go, Kiku-sama," Jack said gently. "Goodbye and may the gods and your ancestors watch over you."  
  
"I do not intend to leave you, o-samurai."  
  
"We aren't giving you a choice," Mad Jack said. "Go!"   
  
"Have I displeased you, Kuro-Jack-san?"  
  
"No! No, you have not. Nonetheless, you are dismissed. I have no further need of you." There was a strange choked note in the rasping voice.  
  
Hurt, bewildered, Kiku looked from one to the other.  
  
"Oh, hell," Jack said. "Look, Kiku-sama. You are not being sent away because of anything you have done or not done. We are going into the Pit of Hate to kill Aku. That is why your company is no longer wanted."   
  
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You intend to enter the Pit?"  
  
"And come out, gods willing."  
  
"Then you will certainly need all the help you can get," Kiku said briskly. "I volunteer."  
  
"No," Jack said firmly. "Listen to me, Kiku-sama. You have the heart of a warrior, but you have not had sufficient training. We'll be lucky if we survive, and we are experienced samurai. To take you along would be to murder our dear friend. We will not do it."  
  
"In short," Mad Jack said, "go away."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Go away!"  
  
She went, in tears.   
  
Jack watched her drive away and felt like crying himself. He consoled himself with the thought that at least she was now safely away from Mad Jack, that she was much better off than she had been when he'd met her.  
  
"Watch out for her doubling back to follow us," Mad Jack said morosely.  
  
"If she does we will have to disable the car and take her back down the mountain. I don't think she could climb it by herself."  
  
"Want to bet?" Mad Jack said, even more morosely. The campfire flames danced in his red eyes. "Well, we can't climb if we don't get any sleep."  
  
They set off at dawn. There was no sign of pursuit from Kiku, which was a relief to Jack; he would have hated to have her encounter the belligerent goat-people, or any of the mountain's other dangers, on his account. At least this time the mountain and its denizens seemed to be in a good mood. He and his companion made excellent progress all day and passed a peaceful night in camp halfway up. In the morning they ate quickly and set out again. They were now coming close to where Jack had had the run-in with the goat-people when he climbed this mountain previously, so he wasn't surprised to encounter a horned lookout. Knowing it probably wouldn't do any good, he still tried courtesy first. "Goat man! We intend to harm no one; we have taken care to damage nothing. Please let us pass." He dodged as the creature charged.  
  
Mad Jack stepped forward. "Hey! Goat! Remember me?"  
  
The goat-man took one look at him and ran away bleating. Mad Jack smiled.  
  
On Tuesday morning they were near the summit, and Mad Jack was checking each cleft in the cliffs very carefully. Finally they came to a steep step made of crumbling rock. Mad Jack stood on Jack's shoulders, peeked over the ledge, and scrambled up. "This is it! This is the door!" 


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR  
  
  
  
Mad Jack gave Jack a hand up, and there it was; a cleft in the rock, looking no different than any other cleft. "You are right," Jack said. "I would never have found this."  
  
"No one could find it save by the most fortuitous chance," Mad Jack agreed.  
  
"I'm sure that's why he never bothers to move it."  
  
Mad Jack started in. "Follow me."  
  
The path sloped steeply downward, so that they were quickly out of reach of daylight. In utter blackness, Jack kicked a pebble. It dropped off the side of the trail...and off...and off...and off. Jack cautiously poked his left foot out sideways and down, and felt nothing. He froze.  
  
"Was that you?" said Mad Jack's voice in front of him.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Follow my steps exactly. This path is quite narrow."  
  
Jack listened to his guide's slow, cautious steps and followed them as if his life depended on it, which, he thought, it probably did. They went on like that for a long time, gravel crunching beneath their feet, and still there was no light, but they were getting closer to something. Ahead and downward Jack heard a muffled, rhythmic noise, shuffle-shuffle-shuffle, boom-boom-boom, and there was also the smell of the Pit, that sulphurous stench he recalled so well, wafting upward, growing ever stronger.  
  
Onward in the dark, perhaps half a mile. The stench grew more powerful. Jack coughed.  
  
"Like the perfume, do you?" Mad Jack's voice was even harder than usual. "Thanks to you, I was stuck in the Pit, smelling it, breathing it, for two weeks before I was strong enough to leave."  
  
"You did attack me first," Jack pointed out, and then he quickly stepped back, coming close to a fatal loss of balance, as Mad Jack wheeled on him.  
  
In the dark the red eyes burned. "Think you I had any choice at the time? Do you know how strong Aku's influence is? Do you know what a battle it was to cast his influence off? What a battle it is ever to cast it off?" The angry questions were pelting Jack like arrows. "Have you any idea how few have been able to do that?"   
  
"No," Jack admitted. "But I do know he used us both, myself as much as you, and I am sorry I fell for it. I am sorry for my part in it."   
  
Pause. Red eyes glaring. The endless void on either side. (If he attacks me here, we're both dead and Aku wins.) Point that out? Keep quiet? It was so hard to predict what might set Mad Jack off.  
  
The two red ellipses with the black dots in their middles seemed to wink out as Mad Jack turned about again. "Come on, you bastard."  
  
They went another mile or so, during which nothing was said, and then Mad Jack spoke suddenly. "Stop."  
  
Jack halted immediately.  
  
"You will take two more steps forward, make a ninety-degree turn to your left, and slide down a sort of chute. You will land in a brightly lit area in which we will probably encounter the first layer of guards. You'll have to strike at sound until your eyes recover. If we survive that, we will cross into a room where there's a lot of machinery producing...well, I'm not sure what all it's producing, but it certainly produces noise. Noise so loud that it will temporarily deafen you--if you get out quickly. If you don't, you'll be permanently deafened. I have been told that if you stayed longer than a few minutes the noise would pulverize your guts and kill you, and I think that that is probably correct, though I don't plan to stay in there long enough to find out. In short, dear brother, if you have any questions, ask them now."  
  
"Shouldn't we put something in our ears?"  
  
"Idiot. Trying to plug your ears against that would be like trying to fight off the invincible Samurai Jack with a needle."  
  
"I am not invincible," Jack said quietly.  
  
"Ready? One--two--left--"  
  
Whoosh! Down Jack went, skidding beetlelike on his back in the darkness, sliding on some viscous, unpleasantly scented substance. What was that smell? It teased his memory...  
  
Beetle drones! The oil that squirted out of them like blood when you cut into them had that hot, thick, musty smell at first, then took on a more spicy, choji-like odor as it cooled. Either way, it was pungent. (Merciful ancestors, every person in this place will smell us coming--)  
  
Jack had no time to come up with a plan to deal with the smell; the chute ended abruptly. Blinding white glare. Startled voices. Whirring of robots. Outgoing fire to his right, that must be Mad Jack, unless some other warrior had been deranged enough to come in here. Cut. Cut. Listen. Cut. Cut. Cut. Splash of coppery blood across his chest. Slash. Shriek and thud. His eyes were adapting, he could see fuzzily. Beside him Mad Jack was helping hack a path through the minions. Jack slashed at a robot, and musty oil splattered in his face. He drew his sleeve across his eyes and kept going.  
  
By the time they had killed all the minions and reached the far wall, Jack could see perfectly well, but no longer hear. The floor shuddered under their feet from the noise coming from the other side. The noise vibrated Jack's tongue against the roof of his mouth, thudded in his throat, in his guts; it was like a painful tide pounding against his ears. No wonder all those minions had stayed clustered at the other end.  
  
Mad Jack put his hand on the wall. The vibrations trembled the muscles in his forearm. "Soundproofed," he mouthed, and he opened the door and stepped through. Around them machinery that stretched from floor to ceiling squealed and pumped and churned and steamed and pounded. Jack could feel his heart struggling to beat against the insistent mechanical rhythm. A thousand years ago, when he had first been dumped into this horrible Aku-infested world, he had entered a bar and covered his ears against what had, at the time, seemed an intolerable racket.  
  
The samurai ran through the paths between the machines. The din hammered insistently at Jack's ears, his guts, his sanity. He glanced around once or twice as he ran. All this furious activity seemed to result in no visible output. It was noise for noise's sake, ugliness for ugliness's sake.  
  
The samurai ran through the door at the other side of the room and slammed it shut behind them. Now they were in a long hall, dimly lit by what appeared to be clusters of fungus hanging from the ceiling. Except for themselves, the hall was empty, and it was eerily, impossibly quiet. Jack wondered if he were now deaf. He put his hand on the wall and felt no vibration. He glanced inquiringly at Mad Jack, who shrugged slightly, as if to say "This is how it is because this is how it is." Then the double mouthed "Take a rest," and they sat down against a wall and passed the water bottle. Presently Jack's stunned ears rang, then buzzed. His hearing was coming back. He also needed to visit the toilet. Beside him, Mad Jack shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his lower abdomen.  
  
"Can you hear me?" Jack asked.  
  
"Yes! Don't shout."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Mad Jack shifted again.  
  
"I need to find a toilet," Jack said.  
  
"Yes. The vibration seems to stimulate the urge. But we should just...go."  
  
"Out here? We can't! It would be like leaving little signs that say 'They went that way.'"  
  
"There is that." For the first time, Mad Jack seemed indecisive. "The toilets here...some of them are real, some of them are...I'm not sure if they're machines or demons, but whatever they are, they don't take kindly to people coming along and..." He trailed off thoughtfully. "They shift, is the problem. Like the doors."  
  
"If we don't find a real one soon," Jack said, beginning to fidget himself, "the point will be moot."  
  
"Not far from here are some that were real when I was here last." Reaching a decision, Mad Jack stood up. "Come."  
  
Five doors to the left was one marked HUMANS. Flattening himself against the wall, Mad Jack pushed the door open a little way. Jack, backing him, could see nothing except tile floor and part of a tall bullet wastecan. Mad Jack edged the door open a little wider, peeking. Jack tried not to squirm. "I see no bodies, or pieces of bodies," Mad Jack said. "Perhaps it is still real."  
  
Ready to fight if necessary, Jack followed him in. The restroom had a sour untended smell and the sinks looked grimy, not that he was worried about such niceties at a moment when his back teeth were swimming. There were no urinals, but opposite the dirty sinks there were five little booths. The one Jack entered contained one of those weird, horrendously uncomfortable Occidental-style toilets that made you feel as if you were perching awkwardly on a high stool. Jack was glad he didn't need to sit down. Pulling his clothes aside, he sighed with relief.  
  
"If I were you," Mad Jack said from the next stall, "I would not try to flush it, and I would back out, keeping an eye on it."  
  
They backed out at exactly the same time, moving in perfect, unintended, dancelike unison. Not for the first time, Jack wondered uncomfortably how much difference there really was between them.  
  
Mad Jack inclined his head towards the door, and, as if something had seen, the bolt intended to allow the janitor to close off the room shot itself shut. Jack lunged to open it, jerking back hastily when the metal bolt and the metal door glowed red-hot. He tried to cut it open, and his sword left only a faint scratch; it would take time to cut through this. He turned back towards the sink to get water to throw on the bolt--  
  
From an end stall, which was, oddly, not one that either of them had used, there came an odd sound, something between a gurgle and a growl, and the sound of something ripping loose from the wall. As one, they drew swords. Here in the Pit, at least, where it and he had been forged, Mad Jack's sword too held magic. The blade shimmered with dark fire.  
  
Hissing angrily, the demon burst out of the stall. One could still tell that it had been disguising itself as a humble toilet. It seemed to be made of white porcelain, and water swirled in its gaping jaws. The samurai attacked, not trying to kill it yet, but to force it towards the door with the idea of splashing cooling water on the bolt. With a flushing sound, the demon belched water onto the tile floor, and the samurai skidded. Jack's feet flew out from under him. He rolled back to his feet, to see Mad Jack halfway down the demon's jaws, headfirst. With no time to be gentle, Jack yanked the half-drowned double out and threw him backwards. His black gi was soaked and dripping, his hair tumbling around his shoulders in wet black plaits.  
  
"Wad your clothes up against that bolt!" That was all Jack had time to say before the demon was upon him. He knew better now than to try to keep his feet. He dropped to his knees and slashed from that position. Behind him he heard Mad Jack coughing and retching up water. Then he heard the bolt shoot back, but the gagging continued; for some reason Mad Jack wasn't leaving. "Go! Go! Go and kill Aku!" Jack said, and the demon leaped on him with a flushing roar, dumping cold water all over him that undid his topknot; his hair plopped wetly into his eyes.  
  
Still coughing, Mad Jack lunged forward with the wastebasket in his arms, jamming it as far down the demon's throat as he could. It burbled angrily, but it was completely clogged. While Mad Jack held the wastebasket in place, Jack hacked the demon apart, and then they helped each other out the door, where they paused to catch their breath, Mad Jack still coughing intermittently.  
  
As Jack wrung out the wet black gi, his thumb and middle finger met through a hole in the fabric. He shook it out, holding it up, and let out a low whistle. That metal had been so hot that it had burnt a bolt-shaped hole through a garment saturated in cold water.  
  
Mad Jack took the gi and put it on. The charred hole was in the upper left sleeve. "That settles it," he said. "From now on, we pee in the potted poison ivy."  
  
Wringing out his own gi, Jack began to laugh, and Mad Jack laughed with him. Then the double mumbled something.  
  
"What?" Jack said, wringing.  
  
Another mumble.  
  
"I can't hear you, so sorry."  
  
"If you hadn't jumped in, I'd have drowned," Mad Jack said. "I said, Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." Jack put on his damp gi. Cold and clammy, it plastered itself to his body.  
  
"That doesn't mean I don't still want to kill you if I can," Mad Jack said sternly. "I am only giving credit where it is due."  
  
Jack bowed. "Thank you. Now, how do we get on with killing Aku? Which way now?"  
  
"I don't think we should continue on this way." Mad Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's been too easy so far. It makes me nervous. I fear we are being ushered into a trap. So I think we should change our plan. I think we should climb down the old elevator shaft that leads straight into the heart of the Pit. It's a couple of miles long, but there are maintenance crawlways every so often where one may stop and rest."  
  
"You don't anticipate a trap there?"  
  
"No," Mad Jack said. "It's very old, quite unsafe; I believe they'll take the view that no one would ever be reckless enough to try to climb up or down it."  
  
That was certainly reassuring.  
  
"Follow me," Mad Jack said.  
  
Six minion attacks, a wall that shot spears, and a trapdoor over a vat of acid later, they were looking down the old shaft. It was utterly black, smelling mostly of age and disuse, but there was also a faint, troubling whiff of death, as if other warriors had tried this route from time to time.  
  
They climbed down and down and down into the dark. Jack quickly found that many of the handholds in the rotting timber were loose. One had to test each one very carefully before changing position. Now and then a handhold would fall out when he tested it, rattling down the shaft until it finally landed at the bottom.  
  
Down and down. Rest. Drink. Down. Down. Down. Their slow, careful descent must have been going on for hours. Down. Down. Down. Rest. Drink. Eat a little. Down. The only faint light was from Mad Jack's eyes.  
  
"Hello!" he said suddenly. "Someone else came this way recently. There's a scrap of cloth stuck to the wall. Looks new."  
  
"Can you tell what color it is?"  
  
"Pink."  
  
"I wonder if he made it," Jack said.  
  
Muffled rasping laughter from the other side of the shaft. "If you step on something wet and crunchy at the bottom, you'll know!"  
  
A couple of hours later Jack reached down with his right foot and felt something solid and horizontal. He heard Mad Jack step off onto the level and followed suit.  
  
"This is the lowest maintenance shaft," Mad Jack said. "From here we'll have to feel for the trapdoor."  
  
On hands and knees, they groped in the darkness, occasionally seizing one another's hand or ankle by accident. Jack found the trapdoor and carefully lifted it. The sulphur smell blasted up, strong enough to make him wince. He followed Mad Jack into a narrow crawlway. After crawling some distance, Mad Jack came to and lifted another trapdoor, and the samurai dropped into a long hall, almost on top of a woman who wore a blue skirt, blue jacket, blue high-heeled shoes, and a white blouse. She carried a fat briefcase. At sight of the samurai, she hastily set the briefcase down. "Good Lord and butter," she said. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Eh?" Jack said.  
  
She withdrew a hand mirror from her briefcase and held it up so they could see the two apparitions covered from head to toe in blood, dirt, demon dampness, and robot goo, dark eyes peering from one messy mask of battle, red eyes from the other.   
  
"We're Maintenance," Jack said.  
  
"Maintenance wears swords?"  
  
"To kill the rats," Mad Jack said.  
  
"You're warriors here to kill Aku," she said, undeceived. "Well, don't let me stop y'all. He hasn't paid me on my retainer in four months." She withdrew a towel from the bulging briefcase and handed it to Jack. "Here."  
  
"Thank you." He wiped his face and passed the towel on.  
  
"If Aku dies, at least I'll get paid out of his will. And if he dies intestate..." She smiled. "Well, in such a case, the lawyers get paid first!"  
  
"You're a lawyer?" Jack put a nervous hand on his sword even as the ordinarily fearless Mad Jack took a step backward.  
  
"I'm Aku's lawyer and I wish I'd never accepted the job. If you can get me out of it I'll be very grateful. Look, why don't y'all go in the secret fiends' entrance? Nobody except the most evil creatures knows about it. We lawyers use it all the time."  
  
Jack, who didn't trust lawyers even outside the Pit, said, "No, thank you."  
  
"No, wait," Mad Jack said. "She is telling the truth. I have heard of the secret fiends' entrance."  
  
"How many guards?" Jack asked.  
  
"None. It's secret."  
  
"Lead on, please," Jack said.  
  
She led them down two flights of stairs and a short way down the hall to an unmarked door. "Secret fiends' entrance," she said with a flourish. "You'll come out in the throne room, a little behind and to the right of Aku's throne."  
  
Jack bowed. "Thank you!"  
  
"You know, you're kind of cute." Smiling flirtatiously, she handed him a card. "Why don't you call me after the battle?"  
  
"Let's go," Mad Jack said.  
  
"You know, if you survive," the lawyer said.  
  
"Thank you. If you will excuse us--"  
  
Mad Jack cracked the door.  
  
"And if you don't end up in a wheelchair," the lawyer said.  
  
Mad Jack opened the door wider.  
  
"Thank you, madam, I--"  
  
"And if you don't end up all scarred up."  
  
Mad Jack rattled the doorknob impatiently.  
  
"I mean, a little scar that doesn't show would be OK, but if you end up with big disgusting scars all over your face--"  
  
"Madam, I must go!" Jack said, bowed, and followed Mad Jack through the door.  
  
"Good luck!" the lawyer called after them, and closed the door.  
  
Aku's throne room was decorated in the same garish red-and-yellow flame motif as the little bit of the Pit which Jack had seen previously. The shape-shifter sat on his flame-design throne. Perched on the arm of the throne, like a toy Aku had set aside until he had time to pick it up again, was...  
  
"Kiku!" Jack whispered. "How'd she get here?"  
  
Kiku saw them but betrayed no reaction. Instead, she quietly reached behind her and began undoing her obi, which seemed a strange thing to be doing at a time like this, but then Jack noticed her removing various metal pieces from its many thick folds and assembling something, although from here he could not tell what.  
  
"Pretend you are my prisoner," Mad Jack murmured, and Jack put his hands behind him as if his wrists were cuffed.  
  
Mad Jack took his arm and propelled him to stand before the throne of Aku. The shapeshifter's eyes widened at sight of the quarry he had pursued for so long.  
  
"Father," Mad Jack announced, "I'm home!" 


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE  
  
  
  
Aku was visibly startled to see someone whom he had left impaled to die in the middle of nowhere, but then his look of smug pleasure returned. "You have done well, my son. I forgive you your earlier incompetence. Have a confectionary treat."  
  
"No, thank you!" Mad Jack said, and attacked, Jack falling in with him. Aku scrambled off the throne and ran for cover, disappearing behind one of the many identical flame-design screens that filled the cavernous room. Kiku leveled the folding assault rifle she had assembled and killed most of the minions who rushed to the defense of their master. The samurai killed the rest. Mad Jack hurried to lock the throne room doors from the inside.  
  
Jack gave Kiku a hand down from the high throne. "How'd you get here?"  
  
"I circled around the mountain, so you would not see me, and climbed, just as you did. I got here by climbing down a disused elevator shaft. It was very frightening. Then I played along with Aku and waited for you two to come. I thought you might need some help."  
  
An indignant Mad Jack joined them. "Now I know why you never let me undo your obi! Kiku-san, how long have you had that rifle?"  
  
"Remember the bounty hunters who were killed when Jack-san swerved up the cliff? I took it from one of them."  
  
"And how'd you learn to use it so well?" Mad Jack demanded. "All I trained you on was a pistol, seeing as how I thought that was all we had!"  
  
She sighed. "I lied to you, o-samurai. I am so sorry. At first I was not sure whether I should trust you, and after that, it was awkward to confess. Forgive me. Kozuke taught me to shoot. He was expert with all types of weapons."  
  
"But why did you never tell us you had found the rifle?" Jack asked.  
  
She looked at him as if he had asked an extremely silly question. "You were two samurai going to war. You would have wanted to take the rifle from me and use it yourselves."  
  
Mad Jack plucked the rifle from her hand. "Give me that!"  
  
"See?" she said to Jack.  
  
"I'll give it back!" Mad Jack said, annoyed. "But right now, I need it. Here. Take this." He handed her one of his pistols and three clips. "Now, get over there in a corner where you can see the doors, that's probably the safest place, and keep out of the way. You shouldn't even be here! This is warriors' work."  
  
"Yes, Kuro-Jack-san." Stepping over and around minions she had killed, Kiku headed for a corner.  
  
"Aku!" Jack called. They waited. No response. He called again, louder. "AAAAAKUUUUUU!" Still no response. "Aku! You are trapped! Come out and die honorably."  
  
Unexpectedly, he came out, in the shape of a black unicorn, charging with his head low to gut a samurai. Jack got in two good cuts. Hurt, Aku shrieked and changed to a black bear, then to a black tiger, then to a giant black ant with serrated, snapping jaws. As Mad Jack leaped aside from the deadly pincers, the ant shot out a side leg and snatched the rifle. Quickly transforming back into himself, Aku opened fire. The samurai scrambled for cover behind the throne. Carefully sighting her pistol, Kiku shot the rifle out of Aku's hands. Jack darted out, grabbed the rifle, and tossed it back to her. Then, before Aku had time to change yet again, the samurai charged him and leaped, each one cutting diagonally down through one of the shapeshifter's shoulders. Their two blades met in the heart of the demon. There was a bright flash and an explosion. Jack caught the worst of it. Time pleated.  
  
When Jack came around, he was lying on his back against the wall, as if someone had carefully moved him out of the way. Whoever had done that had also laid his sword on top of him, pointing towards his feet, as if to make sure he'd find it, and even folded his hands neatly atop the hilt.  
  
He needed the sword. Minion reinforcements had broken in. Still dazed, his head spinning, Jack took his sword in hand. He managed to stand by using the wall to push himself up, and prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible.  
  
Sword in one hand, pistol in the other, Mad Jack leaped between Jack and the advancing minions. "Get back, get back! I promise you that if you harm this man you will die!"  
  
The lawyer stepped up and helpfully caught Jack's arm, bracing him. Kiku stepped up to back the samurai with her rifle.  
  
The minions hesitated. In the sudden stillness an angry squeaking was heard. Everybody looked down. Running around on the floor, waving its tiny arms and squeaking in rage, was a mouse-sized black creature with minute pinpoints of flame for eyebrows.  
  
Kiku peered at it and said uncertainly, "Aku?"  
  
He squeaked shrilly at her.  
  
"I guess that's what he truly looks like." The lawyer shook her head. "How...how insignificant he really is."  
  
At that, the angry squeaking doubled in speed and intensity.  
  
"That little creature caused all that trouble!" Jack said in wonder.  
  
Mad Jack raised his foot and brought it down hard. The squeaking ceased. Mad Jack ground the toe of his shoe into the floor. There was a crunching sound, as if he'd stepped on a big black bug. He pivoted with his leg stretched out waist-high, so the minions could see the messy bottom of his shoe. "There is your master!" he said scornfully. "Are you not proud to serve him? Will it not be an honor to die for him?"  
  
They murmured uncertainly.  
  
"Look here, folks," the lawyer said helpfully. "It's not like he even paid us on time. I think this is an excellent time to call it quits."  
  
"Mind if we step outside and talk it over?" a minion said.  
  
"Please do," Jack said quickly, wanting to avoid more death if possible.  
  
The moment the minions had left the room Mad Jack turned on Kiku. "What are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?"  
  
"I could not desert you and let you come to this awful place alone," she said.  
  
"Did I ask for your help? Did Jack ask for your help?"   
  
"I am sorry, Kuro-Jack-san."  
  
"Don't ever do anything like that again!"  
  
"Yes, Kuro-Jack-san."  
  
"From now on, when a samurai tells you to do something, you do it!"  
  
"Yes, Kuro-Jack-san."  
  
"I ought to discipline you severely!"  
  
"Yes, Kuro-Jack-san." She smiled at him.  
  
"Don't look at me like that!"  
  
"Sorry, Kuro-Jack-san."  
  
He scuffed his messy shoe on the floor. "You're a very good shot."  
  
"Thank you, Kuro-Jack-san," she said, smiling at him again. "So are you."  
  
"Hmmph!" he said.  
  
"Kuro-Jack-san? Jack-san hit his head quite hard. Hadn't someone ought to see to him?"  
  
"Well, see to him, then," Mad Jack said.  
  
Kiku helped Jack sit down on the floor. He gingerly probed the pigeon-egg-sized lump on the back of his head, and looked up at Mad Jack. "Thanks."  
  
Mad Jack glared as fiercely as he had glared at Kiku. "I don't want or need your appreciation. You deserve a chance to die fighting, that's all. You earned it. Your time portal should be around here somewhere. I'm going to go look for it so we can be rid of you." He walked away.  
  
"What is your name?" Kiku asked.  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"In the Pit of Hate."  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
That was a good question. "When we started down here it was Tuesday morning...I should think it's very late Tuesday night, or maybe the small hours of Wednesday morning?"  
  
"Close enough." Kiku held up her finger, circling it slowly. "Follow my finger." She watched him watching her finger move back and forth before his face. "Close your eyes and touch your nose." He did. "Jack-san, you have a very hard head."  
  
The lawyer walked up, high heels clicking, and handed him a cold towel.  
  
"Thank you." He held it to the back of his head. "What time is it, anyway?"  
  
"Twenty after seven Tuesday evening," the lawyer said.  
  
"Is that all?" Jack said, surprised; he felt as if he'd been down in the Pit for a week.   
  
The minions came back in, and Mad Jack hurried back over, resuming his defensive position. The minion who seemed to have appointed himself spokesman said, "Well, we don't see much point in defending Aku any more, but, well, what will we do now?"  
  
"I have an idea about that." Jack stood up. He was still a little wobbly but feeling better by the moment. "This land has been in Aku's grip for generations. Perhaps centuries. Evil and corruption are endemic. Someone must root out the old, corrupt, wicked administrators and replace them with new, honest ones. So if you are willing to conduct yourselves honestly, you can, in effect, all be promoted. Are you willing to be honest?"  
  
"Well, it sounds like a funny way to get a promotion, but we could try it," the spokesman said thoughtfully. "It'd be an interesting change, anyway. Who's going to promote us now that Aku's not around to do it Who's going to be in charge?"  
  
"What will be needed," Jack said, "is a strong central authority. Someone wise, just, incorruptible, even-tempered, slow to wrath--"  
  
Mad Jack was nodding. "Yes. I'll take over."  
  
"Actually, I was thinking of Kiku-san," Jack said. Mad Jack bridled, and Jack went on smoothly, "If she becomes queen she will, of course, need a general to back up her authority with force. Someone strong, able to lead, and most important, not afraid to fight. The corrupt ones will resist the change. Especially at first, I expect a great deal of fighting."  
  
Mad Jack perked up markedly at that prospect. "I'll do it!"  
  
Jack turned to Kiku. "Kiku-san, would you be willing to become queen to help these people straighten themselves out?"  
  
She thought it over. "I'm willing to help in any way I can, but I think being queen would be a time-consuming task. I may need some help after the baby arrives."  
  
"Baby?" Mad Jack bleated, nearly dropping his sword. "You're pregnant? How'd that happen?" The others looked at him. "Well, I know how it happens, but--but--well--Kiku-san, I must say, this is very poor timing!"  
  
She smiled at him.  
  
He sighed. "We'll manage."  
  
"General." Jack gestured at the re-employed minions. "Meet your first troops."  
  
Rather stiffly, Mad Jack bowed to them. A minion in the back called out "Howdy!" Mad Jack's eyebrow rose, but for once he kept quiet.  
  
"It's all very well to make Kuro-Jack-san the general," Kiku said, moving on with her usual efficiency. "He's strong and brave, that's what's needed, that settles it. But becoming a queen is rather more complicated. So far as I know, I have no royalty in my background."  
  
"My father's the shogun. I believe that qualifies me to crown the heads of vassal states?" Jack glanced at the lawyer for confirmation. She nodded. "Kiku-san, if you don't mind being called a vassal state, to satisfy the legal requirements..."  
  
"Not at all," Kiku said.  
  
"I, Tokugawa Toshiro son of the shogun Tokugawa Akira, do hereby decree that you, Kiku-sama, are the ruler of all lands previously held by Aku." Jack turned to the minions. "Salute your queen!"  
  
For a moment they all looked blank. Then Mad Jack, the new general, sank into a formal bow. He didn't do it very well, he'd have been laughed out of the shogun's court, maybe even a provincial daimyo's court, but given that it was probably the first civilized gesture he'd ever tried to make, Jack thought that even the attempt showed tremendous progress. The minions followed Mad Jack's lead, kowtowing even more awkwardly, but making a good, honest effort. Jack bowed respectfully to the entire group, and then to the new queen.  
  
"Oh, my." Kiku looked at all the people kowtowing before her, and glanced at the experienced prince beside her, as if to say, Now what do I do?  
  
"Acknowledge them, so they can get up," Jack whispered, "and then have that lawyer start drawing up papers to make them all commissioned soldiers of the queen. Nice and official. Make them feel important."  
  
Kiku followed the suggestion. The lawyer sat down at a side table and began to work, and the new troops clustered around to watch.  
  
"Kiku-sama," Jack said, "I believe you can take it from here. I'm going to go look for the time portal. Aku must have it hidden around here somewhere."  
  
"We'll find it." She blinked rapidly. "I am happy for you, Jack-sama, I am glad you will be able to go home, but I will miss you."  
  
"I'll miss you too." He glanced at Mad Jack, who was reading over the lawyer's shoulder as she worked, and cautioned, "Don't let him push you around."  
  
"Oh, he's really no trouble. Not nearly as much trouble as he'd like to be." Kiku smiled. "You just have to know how to handle him."  
  
"Soldiers!" Jack called. "Has anyone seen a gateway to the past around here?"  
  
"I can take you right to it," said the ex-minion who had called "Howdy!" earlier. "I'm the one who always had to shovel the dinosaur poop out of it. Follow me."  
  
As he passed Mad Jack on the way out, Jack bowed. "Without your help, I would not now be leaving. Arigato gozaimashita."  
  
"You needn't thank me, it was well worth it to be rid of you at last!" Mad Jack's red eyes darted around, to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, and then he leaned forward and whispered, "Take care of yourself."  
  
Jack bowed a final farewell, and followed the soldier out and down the hall to an unmarked door. The soldier opened it, and there, swirling and humming quietly, was the gate of Time. Jack stepped through.  
  
He arrived home on a sunny summer day in exactly the spot from which he'd left, but where the entrance to the Pit had been there was now a manicured lawn. Before him was a tall, four-sided monument with writing on the three sides he could see. The writing on the side facing him said ON THIS SPOT THE HEROIC PRINCE TOKUGAWA TOSHIRO BRAVELY GAVE HIS LIFE TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM THE GREATEST EVIL EVER KNOWN.  
  
The heroic prince, who as far as he could tell was very much alive, was puzzled for a moment, and then he understood. Of course. When Aku died, everything had been restored to normal except Toshiro himself, because he hadn't been here to be restored. He had still been in the future. He had been the one missing piece.  
  
A middle-aged samurai couple walked up, glancing in annoyance at the ronin who had no more respect than to appear at the dead hero's monument in such a battered, ragged, filthy condition. Their evident disgust increased when the ronin let out a satisfied sigh and smiled broadly. The husband looked as if he might be going to say something to the impudent vagabond, but then the wife plucked his sleeve and said, "Not now, Yuki-chan. The sad lady has come. Let her pray in peace."  
  
The monument blocked Toshiro's view of the sad lady, but he heard her clap to get the attention of the gods.  
  
The wife lowered her voice. "Poor thing, she's here every day. Sometimes she stays and prays for hours. Let's let her have it to herself."  
  
With a hard glare at the disreputable ronin, Yuki suffered himself to be led away. Letting the lady have the monument to herself sounded like a good idea to Toshiro. He was ready to walk home and let everyone know that the embarrassingly fulsome legend on the monument would have to be reworded (and, he hoped, toned down considerably). As he started to walk away, behind him he heard the sad lady began to cry; he jumped, swung around, and hurried around the monument. "Hiroko!"  
  
Astonished, she stopped crying. "Toshiro! You are alive!" She began to cry again, and to laugh, and she grabbed him and kissed him right in front of the gods and the world. He didn't mind. She began to pat and touch him all over, as if to assure herself that he were solid and real, and he didn't mind that either, he had waited a long time for her touch, though he flinched a little when her fingers brushed the sore back of his head.  
  
"You're hurt!" she exclaimed. "Here, sit down. I will fetch a doctor right away!"  
  
"No, no, it's only a small bump," he said, and truly his headache was much better. "Don't go away just yet."  
  
Heedless of his filthy condition, she clung to him.  
  
"Hiroko-chan, how long have I been gone?"  
  
"Four years, two months, twelve days, five hours." She clung even tighter. "When you went to fight the demon, and you did not come back, and we found no sign of you, everyone thought you must have been killed." She looked up at him. There was a smear of greasy dirt on her cheek where she had pressed her face against his chest. "Everyone else thought that. In my heart I knew you were not dead, my love. What I feared was that Aku had captured you and was holding you in torment somewhere. Every day I have prayed for your safe return.  
"Toshiro-chan, what did happen?"  
  
"Many strange things. One hardly knows where to begin."  
  
"I won't keep you standing here to explain it now. You must be so tired." Reluctantly, Hiroko let him go. "Go home; let everyone know you are alive. Go quickly. I'll catch up. We have all the time in the world now."  
  
He started away, glancing back once. Smiling, Hiroko waved him on in an encouraging fashion.  
  
He began to run.  
  
  
  
  
END 


End file.
